The Fates Prophesied
by MistressB
Summary: Hermione and Draco are put together for a school project on the Founding Four. What will happen when they discover that maybe things don't just happen by chance? In my story, Draco is NOT their enemy! PLEASE Don't hate me!
1. Beginnings

The Fates Prophesied

Chapter 1: Prophecies

Mistress B

A shrill whistle blew, signaling the trains departure. Looking out the window, he watched as last minute goodbyes were called out to the students milling around and on the train. His gaze was drawn to three as they made their was to the train. The Golden Trio. He glared, his pale eyes taking them in with nothing short of loathing. The 'wondrous' Boy-Who-Lived-To-be-A-Pain-In-The-Rear, red-haired Weasel, and her, know-it-all, bushy haired mudblood. He frowned. Maybe not so bushy… It had been tamed over the summer, honey colored highlights that most certainly had not been there last year shining as she disappeared from view, boarding the train. "What you looking, mate?" Asked the only other person in the compartment. His eyes tore away from the sea that surrounded him and he shrugged, muttering under his breath.

XxXxXxXxXxX

After a moment searching, the boy-who-lived, Weasel, and the mudblood stepped into a compartment, followed by a young girl, red haired and freckled. Harry placed his trunk above the seat, the took Hermione's and did the same as she sank into the seat, starring out the window. Ron did the same, placing his and Ginny's above their seat. Ginny looked anxiously at Hermione, who had yet to speak to any of them. "'Mione, are you alright?" Harry asked, his emerald eyes fixed on the brunette. She merely nodded, pulling her knees to her chest, her hands linking around them.

Ron coughed in the silence, and then turned back to Hermione. "So. You get Head Girl?" he asked, hoping for any answer other then the one she gave. A quiet 'Mmhmm,' her eyes never leaving the distance. He looked at Harry and shrugged, then silently beseeched his little sister. She nodded and switched her brother spots, sitting across from the silent Hermione. Ron turned to Harry. "Seventh Year. I still can't believe it." he said quietly. Harry nodded and sat back, thinking. He looked over at Ginny, watching her as she spoke quietly to Hermione. Ron followed his gaze as he watched, then looked back at Harry. "Maybe she'll get 'Mione to talk," he said quietly, concern clouding his features.

"I hope so, Ron. I hope so." Harry muttered to the redhead, sighing softly.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Harry and Ron sat, concentration etched on both of their faces as they contemplated their next moves in the game of wizards chess they had started a while back. Hermione and Ginny still sat huddled, Hermione speaking in hushed tones to the red haired witch. Harry didn't pay much attention when the door slid open, until a spiteful rang out. "Granger. You need to come with me." Said a bored looking Malfoy as he leaned against the door.

"Says who, you prat." Ron said instinctively, barely looking up from the board to look at the platinum blonde. The four's animosity had faded slightly since Malfoy's father died, Malfoy joining the four at the Order's headquarters over the summer. He wasn't their best friend, they weren't going to him gushing with welcome, but they didn't dislike each other quite as much. Any insults between the four were instinct or simple boredom, and ignored most of the time. Hermione reached over and set her hand on Ron's knee before standing slowly, straightening the sweater she wore along with the dark blue jeans.

"It alright, Ron. Probably McGonagall wanting to see me about head duties." She said, smiling weakly at him. Ron nodded and frowned, then stared at Draco, who simply stared back, the picture of ease, his face showing no expression except for a slightly raised eyebrow. Hermione walked past him, her shoulder brushing against his as he pushed off the wall.

Draco shot the compartment door behind him and followed Hermione, sauntering down the hall and glancing into each of the doors as he passed. At the end of the train, the Head's Compartment stood, a larger compartment then all others, the seats more couches then benches, a radio and bookshelf up against the wall where the window stood open. Hermione walked in and sank into the seat, staring out the window at the passing scenery.

Draco's eyes narrowed at her behavior. "Mudblood, I'm surprised. No glee over the books?" he asked, his eyes fixed on Hermione. Her skin was pale in stead of the tan it usually was, her hair longer and wavy, honey highlights sprinkled throughout her brown locks. 'Probably has quite the figure under all those clothes…' he thought idly, his eyes widening as he realized where his thoughts had been straying. "Hermione still stared out the window, his words going right past her.

McGonagall entered then, her back as straight as ever, hair tied back in the severe bun. "Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger," she said politely. "Congratulations on your appointment as head boy and girl. However, along with the privileges of this appointment come numerous responsibilities as well, which I will get to in time. As you know, the headmaster has assigned you your own common room, away from both of your house dormitories. It has a bathroom for you to share, and each of you have your own bedroom." She looked at the couch and sat stiffly on the seat.

"We are to have four balls, Valentine's, Halloween, Christmas, and a graduation ball. You are to plan and attend each of these…" Draco yawned and looked out the window, attention roaming. He had had quite the summer, what with Lucius passing and him moving in with the Order for his safety. His eyes hardened at the thought of the jackass who called himself Draco's father, and yet was willing to sacrifice him to Voldemort. His attention was caught then, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open. "What!" he said frantically.

McGonagall raid an eyebrow. "I said, you and Ms. Granger are asked to take on a project for extra marks in your various courses, since each of you have a lightened workload this year." She said, staring at Draco.

"No, Professor. Before that, about the balls," he asked, still hoping against belief that what he thought he heard was wrong. McGonagall seemed to smirk.

"Ah. Yes. The Headmaster asks that at each dance, you and Ms. Granger share at least three dances throughout the evening, in order to promote inter-house unity." Draco groaned and slumped back in the seat, muttering under his breath. Hermione spoke up not long after.

"About the project, Professor. What exactly does it entail?" She asked, her voice soft, almost a whisper. McGonagall nodded.

"You and Mr. Malfoy would be going through the Founding Fours private journals, hopefully decoding the cipher they used. Symbols and such. It is believe that the Founding Four left behind prophecies, or even just spells lost through the course of time which may be beneficial in the war." Hermione nodded and sat back, listening to the Professors final rules. Only when she left did Hermione close her eyes and sigh, dreaming of immersing herself in the study of those journals, the journals of none other then the Founding Four. Draco looked over and frowned, then resumed looking out the window.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Hermione opened her eyes and looked around, her eyelids heavy with sleep and confusion showing to any who were in the room. Luckily, the only one in the room was Draco, and he was asleep, his head propped against the window, his arms crossed over his chest and his feet stretched out over the seat, one leg fallen over the edge, dangling. Hermione smiled and shook her head. Her and Draco had had a few good conversations as they stayed at Grimmauld Place, when Harry and Ron stayed at the Burrow. He wasn't the highest on her lists of enemies anymore. She stood and yawned, then walked to the bookshelf, gazing at the titles before picking one out. She walked to the radio and turned it on, playing with the dial until she found a muggle station. She smiled at the song, one of her mother's favorites, and hummed along with it as she sat down on the seat, mimicking Draco's position as she opened the book on her lap. She sang along with the song, swaying slightly.

"_Wait for me, wait for me, _

_I'll be coming home, wait for me._

_Oh my love, my darling,_

_I hunger, hunger, for your touch, _

_Of love, only time_

_And time, goes by_

_So slowly, _

_And time can do so much,_

_Are you still mine,_

_I need your love, _

_I, I need your love…"_

She stopped as Draco muttered something in his sleep, panic written across her face, but calmed when he made no move afterwards. She turned back to the book and waited for the next song to come on. She smiled at this song as well, singing softly the first verse.

"_Wandering the streets, in a world underneath it all_

_But nothing seems to be, nothing tastes as sweet_

_As what I can't have_

_Like you and the way that you're twisting your hair 'round you finger.." _

She smiled and shook her head. The stations today all seemed to be playing nothing but love songs. On the way to the station she had flipped through a couple of stations and they were all playing 'You're Beautiful" by that American singer. "Blunt. James Blunt." She muttered to herself. Well, that song, or that one by Aerosmith.

Draco stirred in his sleep and sat up, yawning. She looked over at him, thankful she had not been singing, and then turned back to her book. She read the book, one on Greek mythology, and read out a passage under her breath. "The Nymphs. Female spirits who lived in trees, springs, mountains, and other parts of nature. They were described as beautiful young women, and, depending on where they lived, they had different titles. Oceanids lived within the ocean, naiads within springs, lakes, and brooks, dryads within trees, and oreads within mountains and grottos. They were generally kind and protective towards humans, but they could be vengeful and cruel when they felt betrayed." She frowned as she heard Draco snort. "What?" She asked, an eyebrow raised as she looked at him.

"Do you really find that stuff interesting?" He asked incredulously, his arms crossed as he sat back in the seat, staring at her. Hermione frowned.

"Yes." She said simply, turning back to the books, but then turned back to speak more. "I've always found it fascinating. I can't help but to think, with all that muggles say is pretend and I have found is in fact true, who's to say that all the Nymphs and Muses and Graces, who's to say they aren't real as well?" Draco raised an eyebrow. Hermione shook her head and shrugged, turning back to the book and reading more.

Draco seemed to struggle with what to say next. "Do you really think so?" He asked finally. Hermione looked up in surprise and nodded. Draco shifted his feet nervously. "What else does that say in there?" Hermione smiled and began to read more aloud.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Harry came back into the compartment, his arms loaded with treats from the trolley. "Pumpkin pasty, Ron?" He asked, throwing him one without waiting. Ron caught it and opened it, eating it as he stared at the board. He frowned and looked outside, the sky darkening. Harry took his turn and Ron looked back at the board. Harry frowned. "What's the matter, Ron." He asked. Ginny had left a while back, off to find some of her friends, and Ron had been withdrawn since then.

Ron turned away from the board. "What's wrong with Hermione? I mean, she come in and doesn't even say a word. What happened over the summer?" He asked. Harry looked up and nodded.

"I talked to Ginny when she left. Hermione.. " Harry paused and Ron looked at him expectantly.

"Well?" He asked impatiently, his green eyes looking right into Harry's.

Harry sighed. "Hermione's parents were taken by some Death Eaters. Dumbledore talked to Hermione and doesn't think they will hurt the Granger's, they are the only things that are making the Order hesitate, but Hermione can't help but worry." Ron's jaw dropped.

"Bloody hell. Why didn't she tell us?" He asked, a bag of every flavored beans finding their way into his grasp. Harry shrugged.

"Ginny said Hermione didn't want us to worry, what with the battle with Voldemort. He might be on his last leg, but he still has followers willing to kill us." Harry said wryly, chewing on a licorice whip. Ron sighed and turned back the board.

"Knight to G3. Checkmate." Harry looked at the board in surprise. He was getting better at chess, but Ron still was better.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Dumbledore watched the flames, his blue eyes peering over the top of his glasses. He sat in his study, leaning back in the chair, his fingers steepled under his lips. Fawkes sang, a haunting tune that echoed throughout the school, and Dumbledore thought over the information they had received over the summer. A prophecy of sorts, spoken by one of the Founding Four. If only they knew which, they wouldn't have to go through each of the journals.

He sighed darkly and looked up at the paintings of the past headmasters, and spoke to one quietly. The painting was soon empty, its inhabitant off to another frame. A knock rang at his door and he sat straighter. "Come in." He called out. His doors opened and the librarian entered. Dumbledore smiled and stood, gesturing for the woman to take a seat. "Lemon drop?" he asked, offering a bowl forward. The librarian refused, shaking her head at the proffered candies. Dumbledore sat back into his seat and waited for the woman to speak.

"Albus, I have gotten all of the journals and placed them in the Head's study." She said, and Dumbledore nodded. It had taken some arranging, getting that study. It was really just an empty room, a password placed over it, charms to hide the doorway behind a suit of armor. Only Albus and the Heads were to know the password, chosen by the Head boy and girl themselves. All teachers would have to go through Dumbledore to get it. The librarian appeared to be contemplating something.

"What are you thinking of," asked Dumbledore, blue eyes fixed on the stern librarian. She nodded and spoke quickly.

"Albus, are you sure we should assign a task of this magnitude to the students?" She asked, doubt playing through her features. Dumbledore smiled reassuringly.

"Ah. Yes, I do believe they are the only ones we can trust. With Voldemort on his last, he is desperate, willing to do anything. However, he cannot believe we would assign a task of this importance to students, especially a muggle-born. His mistrust and hatred of them runs to deep for him to even try and picture it." The librarian nodded, and stood.

"I have to get back to the library. I have to finish cataloging the books before the beginning of the year." She nodded once to Dumbledore and made her way to the door. She left the room, and Dumbledore sat back in his seat again.

Should he have assigned the two this task? He didn't know for sure, not anymore. He turned to his companion, his phoenix. "Well Fawkes, done is done. I just hope they can finish this before it is too late." Fawkes seemed to nod, then began his slow, haunting melody once more.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The train arrived at Hogsmeade, and Hermione reluctantly put down the book. Draco had fallen asleep an hour ago, and Hermione had turned off the radio two hours before that. She had forgotten about the disappearance of her parents, at least almost forgotten. She stood up and shook Draco, waking him. He yawned and stood slowly, his gray eyes sleepy. Hermione said a quick goodbye and left the compartment. She was almost back at Hogwarts. Almost.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The Great Hall shone with all of the candles, and all of the students left for their common rooms and the beds that awaited them. Hermione stood up, leaving the Gryffindor table and heading to the Teachers. She saw Draco out of the corner of her eye, doing the same. Dumbledore stood up and opened his arms in welcome. "Ah. Our Head boy and girl." He said, smiling at the two, blue eyes twinkling. Hermione smiled weakly and muttered a soft 'hello' to the Headmaster.

Dumbledore spoke to them for a few minutes, telling them of the project, but they had known most of it already, from speaking to McGonagall on the train. He led them through the halls and stopped in front of a decrepit suit of armor. Draco eyed it warily. "Nice." He muttered as Dumbledore explained to them that it was the door to their study. "Whats the password?" He asked Dumbledore. Dumbledore smiled.

"For now? Simply 'Hershey Kisses.' Delightful muggle candy, I must say." Draco rolled his eyes and Dumbledore smiled. "However, as soon as you can figure out another password, you may change it." Hermione peered at the suit of armor, anxious to be in the study, reading the journals. Dumbledore looked a her and smiled. "Unfortunately, Ms. Granger, tonight is not the night to begin this. You are surely tired, and I still must show you to your rooms. Oh, and when you do begin on the project," He began as he walked through the halls, "You are going to be required to rewrite the journals into English and send them to me, each month, updating me on any progress. It may be beneficial, as well, to write down your own ideas on the contents of the journals, formulate your own thoughts on the meaning behind their words."

He stopped in front of a large landscape portrait, depicting a lazy babbling brook surrounded by flowering trees and twittering birds. Three figures peered out from behind trees, and stepped forward when Dumbledore spoke to them gently. "My dears, we are here to use the dormitory. This is Hermione," He pointed to Hermione and she smiled at the women, already suspecting what they were, "And this is Draco." He pointed to Draco, who stood with his arms crossed over his chest, examining the picture. The three women wore short dresses, one appeared to be made of leaves, one seemed to flow like water, and the other looked suspiciously like flowers. Dumbledore turned to Hermione and Draco, took one look at Hermione's face and smiled. "Do you know what these three are?" He asked, looking into Hermione's brown eyes. She nodded and smiled crookedly, the right side of her mouth higher then the other. She looked at Draco before speaking.

"Are… Are they nymphs?" She asked, hesitating slightly. Draco perked up a bit as she asked, moving closer to the portrait and staring in interest at the women, who laughed behind their hands and whispered in each others ears. Dumbledore smiled brightly.

"Yes, Ms. Granger. That they are. Acantha is a dryad," He pointed at the one who's dress looked like leaves, a redhead, "Melite is a naiad," He pointed at the one with the dress that looked like water, a blonde, "And Lilaea, well, she won't tell me what she is." The last, the brunette with the dress of flowers, looked smugly at Dumbledore and smiled, crossing her arms. Hermione laughed, surprising herself. It was the first time she had laughed since.. Well… Since her parents were taken.

The three nymphs smiled at Hermione and Melite spoke up. "Excuse me, humans. I was wondering.. Password?" She asked, her voice melodious, and Dumbledore smiled at the blonde nymph.

"Of course, of course." He looked at Hermione and Draco. "Mind you, you will need to change the password at least once a month, as with your house dormitories." He said, before turning back to the portrait. "Tempus fugit" He said clearly, and Hermione stepped back unconsciously, expecting the portrait to swing open like the one in front of the Gryffindor common room. However, the portrait dissolved, the frame still there, showing the doorway. Draco stepped into the frame and opened the door, and Hermione followed. Dumbledore left them at the door, turning to make his way back to his office, and Hermione examined the room.

A very warm decorating scheme, a warm cherry wood on the walls, a thick off white carpet cushioning their feet. There was a large fireplace, red brick, with two arm chairs the same off-white as the carpet. At the other side of the room was a large couch, black leather, and a small table with two chairs. The table and chairs were made of the same polished wood that adorned the walls, a cushioned with an off-white fabric. Opposite the door was a large staircase, leading, Hermione assumed, to the bedrooms and bathroom.

She walked up the stairs and saw two doors, one with a plaque engraved with "Hermione Granger", the other with a plaque engraved with "Draco Malfoy." She opened her door and lost her breath at the beauty of the room. Decorated in the warm colors of the common room, the room contained a large four-poster bed, a dark cherry-wood armoire, a small desk, and a nightstand next to her bed. The comforter was a dark blue, the pillows gold silk. She smiled and walked to the armoire, opening it and finding her clothes and different items already arrayed on the hangers, shelves, drawers and hooks. There was a long mirror on the inside of the door, and Hermione couldn't help but look at herself.

She had lost plenty of weight after she discovered why her parents weren't coming to get her after their 'second honeymoon,' and her clothes, that used to be snug, now were loose. Her hair had tamed, most by itself, but she had also gotten in the habit of styling it, if only slightly, every day. Her mother had asked her too, and gotten it dyed the 'muggle way,' Ron had said, putting honey-colored highlights throughout, at her mothers insistence. Her skin was pale, much more than it had been before. Her chocolate brown eyes still showed her intelligence, but now they were wider, showing her innocence, or so a muggle had whispered behind her back.

Hermione sighed and made her way to the bed, flopping down onto the soft blankets, closing her eyes tightly as she tried to sleep.


	2. Personal Remarks and Passwords

Disclaimer: Oh my... I forgot this last time.. Heh. Well, were I Ms. Rowling, I wouldn't be putting this on this time or last time, so, since this has appeared... I suppose I am not, regrettably, J.K.Rowling.

Well. I am not quite pleased with this chapter.. Well, not pleased at all. However, since I was at my dad's this summer and unable to write until I got back here, I figured I should get something up.

Also, the two songs Hermione was singing in the previous chapter were Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers and Confidence by Teddy Geiger.

Thanks to my only reviewer, Johnny-Depp-and-fire-lover. I'm sorry I didn't update sooner!

The Fates Prophesied

Chapter 2: Personal Remarks and Passwords

Mistress B

His steps echoed on the cold stones that made up the Hogwarts floors. His pale eyes, silver, looked out from under a fringe of brown hair. He had been so close, discovered the location of their study. And then, much to his disappointment, Dumbledore unconsciously lowered his voice before telling the Heads the password to the room. The books were in there, he knew. Those precious journals. He glared at the wall in front of him as he came to a corner, turning sharply on his heel and heading down the corridor. It shouldn't be so hard, now that he knew the location, but knowing Dumbledore, he put some far-fetched muggle invention as the password. He growled deep in his throat. A simple mission, he had been told. Go to school, as usual, get the journals and deliver them at Hogsmeade. He nearly snorted in disgust. "Simple, my arse… " He muttered, glaring at his feet on the floor. He had been so close.

He had stepped out of the Great Hall with his classmates, and then told them he had forgotten something. He had made it back to the Hall just in time to see Dumbledore lead them out, heading down halls and corridors, up to the sixth floor. He had watched them stop, and then ducked behind the corner they had come around as Dumbledore had halted and began his explanation. He had to hand it to the old coot; he had hidden the door well. No flashy suits, which would have stood out against the filthy ones that surrounded the corridor, and no portraits that could blabber, no gargoyles that would draw one's eye. Then, just as he was sure he would have the password, be able to pull it off at anytime, Dumbledore had lowered his bleeding voice! He growled and turned yet another corner, stopping abruptly as a meow broke the silence. He turned slowly and looked around. "Shite." He murmured, running as Mrs. Norris' eyes followed him down the dark corridor.

XxXxXxXxXxX

He sat on one of the armchairs, his feet stretched out towards the fireplace. He stared at the flickering flames, his hair falling across the top of his forehead, falling down and laying in front of his eyes. Granger had already retreated to her room, and yet, Draco remained in the common room, in front of the flickering fire. He had attempted reading, the book opened and laying face down on the arm of the chair, but that had been a wasted effort, his thoughts racing far too much to concentrate on the story. He had given up after reading the same paragraph three times, and still not knowing that it had contained.

He was in for quite the year, stuck in the same dorm as Granger. She annoyed him, her and her golden reputation. Draco sighed, running his hand through his hair. He couldn't complain, though. She was better than Potty and Weasel, he supposed. Even spending the summer with the three had not improved his opinion of those two. Granger wasn't any better than the two, but she at least was amusing to annoy.

He should sleep, he knew. Classes began in the morning, and an early rise was always needed the first morning. He glanced around the common room, taking in the subdued decorations. He had seen better, but he supposed it would do. Not the colours he would have chosen, although he supposed that a neutral scheme was best. If they had attempted incorporating both houses' colours, the room would look like a muggle house at Christmas. He grimaced as he tried to imagine the room with the clashing red and green, and decided that he really didn't mind the neutral scheme.

His fingers tapped on the cover of the book, and he sighed as he stared into the flames. The flickering made shadows dance along the wall, drawing his gaze as he watched, deep in thought. A cough from behind him broke him away from his thoughts, and he turned around. Granger was standing at the bottom of the stairs, her left shoulder leaning against the wall. Her head was tilted towards the wall, the dark strands of hair falling over her shoulder, the highlights shining in the light. He stared at her, an eyebrow lifted in puzzlement. "What are you doing down here, Granger." He asked, looking back to the fire that danced before him.

"I could ask you the same, but I know that would be inviting a snide remark." She answered softly, causing him to smirk lightly and nod, running a hand over the soft leather armrest.

"You're learning." He said shortly, glancing back to find her walking slowly towards the fire. She seemed to hesitate, then sat in the matching armchair, sinking into the off-white leather. Draco eyed her for a moment, and then turned back to the fire. "So. Why are you down here." He asked again. He heard a soft laugh, and then a sigh.

"I can't sleep." She admitted quietly, and Draco looked over, an eyebrow raised. She sat deep in the chair, her head propped on the back of the chair. Her brown hair stood out sharply against her pale skin in the flickering light of the fire, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She never looked away from the flames, the brown of her eyes looking darker than usual.

Draco nodded and looked back to the fire, tilting his head to the side as he watched the flames. Neither him nor Granger spoke a word after that, both just content to sit and watch the lulling flickering. It wasn't until he glanced at the clock long after that the silence was broken. He coughed and stood, grabbing the book off of the armrest and marking his place with his fingers, then looked over at Granger. She was asleep, her face calm and at rest. Draco picked up a blanket off of the back of the couch and laid the fabric over her, pulling it up to her chin and stepping back. He turned and walked to the stairs, stopping at the bottom and looking back at her. "'Night, Granger." He said softly, heading up the stairs and entering his room. It surprised him that the room was devoid of greens, but he just fell into the warm embrace of the dark blue quilt.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The next morning came all to quickly for Hermione, and she awoke feeling as though she had just closed her eyes. She hadn't been able to fall asleep the night before, although that was no surprise to her. Since her parents had gone missing, she hadn't been sleeping well, dreams of them being tortured haunting her. She had left her bedroom after she realized that there was no hope of her being able to sleep, heading downstairs where she knew a fire would still burn. She had been surprised to see Malfoy there, expecting him already to be in his room. She had been hesitant to join him in his silent perusal of the flames, but she knew she wouldn't calm enough unless she did. She had decided, before she fell asleep, that she wouldn't keep on the way she was. She would finish school, and then worry about her parents. She could do nothing to help them, and she knew that moping around wouldn't bring the Order any closer to finding them.

She yawned and stood, the blanket that had found its way to her lap falling to the floor. She picked it up and frowned, and then simply set it on the back of the chair. A glance at the clock brought a silent sigh as the hands stood in mockery of her, far too early to be awake, far too late to return to sleep. She shook her head and started towards the stairs. She walked slowly upwards, being careful not to step too quickly, to risk making too much noise. She yawned against the back of her hand as she entered her room, closing the door behind her as she stepped into the warm room. The thick carpet quieted her steps as she stared towards her armoire, opening the doors and gazing at the drawers and shelves. Pulling open a few, she grabbed her clothes and started towards the door that led to the bathroom.

A large room, it contained a claw-foot bathtub, the kind her mother had always wished for. She sighed and ran her finger along it before stepping to the long wooden counter. It took up a whole wall, and the mirror ran the length of it. A large porcelain sink was right in the centre, and scattered over the counter space was a variety of toiletries, from her perfumes, to Malfoy's colognes. She set her clothes on the counter and opened a few drawers, looking for the towels. She found them, fluffy and white, in a closet across from the sink. The towel joined her pile of clothes, and she reached into the separate shower, turning it on before checking both of the doors. Making sure they were locked, she pulled off her clothing and stepped into the shower, the cascading water hitting her back and the top of her head, massaging the muscles they hit. She hummed softly as she worked the shampoo into her hair, rubbing her scalp softly before ducking her head under the even spray of the nozzle and rinsing out the sweet smelling foam.

The room became filled with steam as she stood under the spray, her eyes closed as she yawned and swayed softly. She sighed and shut off the stream of water, stepping out of the shower and grabbing the towel off of the counter, wrapping it around herself as she stood in front of the mirror. She reached out and wiped at the steam covering the mirror, clearing a patch and letting her hand drop to the counter as she gazed at her reflection briefly before shaking her head and drying off. She had just finished dressing, her hair still wet and wrapped in the towel, when a banging came from Malfoy's door. "Damnit, Granger! You've been in there for over an hour! There _is_ other people who need the bathroom, you know." He yelled through the doorway. Hermione smiled and shook her head.

"There are other people? My, I never knew." She muttered, heading towards the door and flicking the lock before returning to the mirror. Malfoy entered, glaring at her, and stood just in the bathroom, his arms crossed. Hermione glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow before dropping her head forward, drying her hair with the towel it was wrapped in. She set the towel on the counter and grabbed a brush, running it through her hair. Malfoy coughed slightly, and Hermione turned to look at him. "Yes?" She said shortly, pulling the brush once more through her thick hair. Malfoy glared at her and his arms dropped to his side.

"I need to use the shower." He said, crossing his arms again. Hermione glanced at his arms slightly, and turned back to the mirror, running the brush once more through her hair. She glanced at him through the mirror and almost smirked at his confused expression. His hair was longer than it usually looked, when it wasn't styled. It fell in front of his eyes, and just reached underneath his ears. He looked tired still, and when he shifted his feet the pyjama bottoms, surprisingly cotton, rubbed against the floor, nearly covering his feet. He frowned, and looked around. "Granger. I need to use the shower." He repeated. Hermione smirked and shook her head.

"I heard you the first time, Malfoy." She said, turning and looking at him, running the brush through one last time and setting it on the counter. "Only thing is... I couldn't give a damn." She smiled innocently and turned back around, grabbing some gel of hers off of the counter and squeezing a small amount onto her palm. She eyed Malfoy through the mirror and rubbed her hands together, then drug her finger through her hair, spreading it through evenly. Malfoy was glaring, and Hermione simply shrugged, rinsing the left over gel off of her hand before picking up a comb, and pulling it through her hair, spreading the small amount of gel even more thinly. When she finished, the only way you'd know there was anything in her hair, was that it would be a gentle wave instead of the bushy mess it usually was. Her mother had the same hair as her, and finally had convinced Hermione to let her mother teach her how to style it. It was simple, but it calmed her hair a great deal.

Malfoy was glaring, and leaned against the counter as he waited. "I don't see why you bother. No matter what you do, you'll always be the bushy-haired know-it-all to everyone you meet." He said, glancing at her as he spoke. Hermione glared at the mirror, and set the comb gently on the counter.

"You should learn not to make personal remarks, Ferret. It's very rude." She said, glaring at him darkly. Malfoy smirked and shrugged, his head falling back slightly as he stared at the spot where the walls and the ceiling met. Hermione began humming softly again, grabbing different brushes off of the counter and running them through her hair. Malfoy eyed her and sighed, gazing regretfully at the shower and muttering under his breath. She smirked. "What was that, Malfoy?" she said innocently.

"I said," He began, turning around to face the mirror, grabbing a variety of hair products as he spoke, "Bloody Granger." He said, eyeing her through the mirror. Hermione grinned and shrugged. Malfoy glared and ran his hands through his hair, spreading who knew what hair product through it. He looked over and frowned slightly, then went back to gazing at the counter top. He sighed and grumbled, picking up a brush and running it through his hair. Hermione placed the brush down on the counter and grabbed her things off of the floor and started towards the door, only to be stopped by a comb flying past her head. She turned around crossed her arms, eyeing Malfoy. He glared at her and picked up the comb she had been using. "This. Is mine." He said shortly, turning back to the mirror.

Hermione rolled her eyes and went into her own room, grabbing her book bag and pulling her robes over her tee shirt and jeans. She grabbed her wand and tucked it in her front pocket, and with a last look around her room, she left, heading into the common room. She gazed at the clock and contemplated heading to the Great Hall, then sighed and sank into the couch, staring at the clock as she waited. She ignored the sound of Malfoy's feet on the stairs, concentrating instead on the movement of the clock hands, and only looked back when he spoke first.

"You know, I don't think your styling did a damn bit of difference." He said, and Hermione looked over to see him in contemplation. She rolled her eyes and caught herself from growling, instead she stood and turned towards him, glaring and gripping the strap on her book bag.

"Nobody asked your opinion, Ferret." She snapped, turning on her heel and stalking to the door. The sound of him chuckling sped her along, and just as the door was closing, she heard him call out triumphantly.

"Who's making personal remarks now?" She glared at the doorway behind her and stepped out of the picture frame, stalking down the hallways towards the Great Hall.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Harry glanced at Hermione, his eyes wide in shock. She had her head propped on her arm, and was humming. In the middle of charms, Hermione Granger was completely ignoring Professor Flitwick. Not only that, she seemed to be daydreaming. Professor Flitwick glanced around the class, an eyebrow raised. "No one can tell me what the incantation for the Featherweight charm is?" He asked again, then shook his head and sighed. Harry reached over and touched Hermione's elbow, pulling back when she jerked up. He frowned and she looked at him in surprise.

"What's the matter, Harry?" She asked quietly, glancing at Professor Flitwick. Harry raised his hand to her forehead as if checking her temperature, and Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What?" She asked, pushing his hand away. Harry shook his head and gazed at her.

"You aren't paying attention, you're humming, and you just ignored a question from a teacher." He said, checking them off with his fingers as he went. Hermione blushed slightly and shrugged, half smiling as she looked at Harry. He shook his head again in disbelief and Hermione sighed, looking at her hands, and Harry turned back to Flitwick. Hermione hadn't been paying much attention at all that day, and it had been noticed by all of the teachers. They had asked Harry if Hermione had been feeling well, and the members of the Order asked if it was about her parents. Harry had had to make excuses all day for Hermione. He glanced at the brown haired witch next to him, and then at the clock. He was just glad this was Hermione's last class of the day.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Ron yawned and gestured with his wand, muttering the incantation as he did so. He didn't expect the charm to work, and, as he thought, when he attempted to lift up the bookcase, he was met with no success. He turned to Harry, who didn't seem to be met with any better results. "Bloody hell." He muttered, getting Harry's attention. "You'd think it would be enough to know Wingardium." He said, and Harry's nod echoed his statement. Hermione was to Ron's right, and as he turned to look at her, he was surprised to see her already done, lifting her bookcase with ease. Flitwick walked over beaming, and Ron sighed. "She doesn't even pay attention, and she gets it first..." He muttered.

He turned around and Harry was laughing. Ron sighed and turned back to his bookcase, jabbing at the air as he muttered the incantation again. "Ron, its swish, dip, prod, not jab jab jab." Came Hermione's voice over his shoulder, and he turned around. She was grinning slightly and mimicking his jabbing motions, and Ron just smiled.

"Glad to see you still know what you're doing." He said, patting Hermione's shoulder. She rolled her eyes slightly and shrugged.

"I learned this charm years ago." She muttered, and Ron sighed. Of course she did. Harry snickered behind him and Ron turned back to his bookcase at a look from Flitwick.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Draco stood in front of the suit of armour that guarded their study and glanced down the hallway. He was leaned against the wall opposite the armour, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his book bag at his feet. The sound of scurrying feet brought his attention to his right, and he pushed off of the wall. "It's about bloody time, Granger." He muttered, but she simply rolled her eyes and stood in front of the suit of armour.

"Hershey Kisses." she said quietly, and the suit of armour began clanking, and it moved to the side, exposing a small enclosure, and it expanded off to the right. The door was all but invisible unless you walked right into the enclosure, and Draco nodded slightly as he followed Granger. She pulled at the door and stepped into the study, and Draco glanced behind him in time to watch the suit of armour return to the entrance. He had to stoop to walk in the expansion of the enclosure, and he to stepped through the doorway into the study, closing it behind him. It wasn't a big room, but not quite small. There were crates and trunks littering the floor, piled up along the bookshelves, the bookshelves empty and along every wall. There was a window on one wall, and a fireplace on the other, but other than that, there were no sources of light. There was a small table and two chairs at it, and also one armchair in front of the fireplace. Granger stood by the table grimacing, eyeing the boxes of books. She kneeled, as well as she could in the small amount of space she had at her feet, and dug into one of the boxes.

Draco glanced around before looking at Granger. "They should be put on the bookshelves." He said, and Hermione put down the book she had been looking at and nodded regretfully. Draco sat down on the armchair and watched as Granger began pulling stacks of books out of the boxes. The box she was emptying was full of black books with a red band along the spine, and the one he had opened with his foot, were all with green bands. He was pulling a green-banded one out when a cough came from behind him where Granger was working. He looked over his shoulder and eyed her. "Yes, Granger?" He asked. She stood with her arms crossed, her feet spread slightly.

"Are you going to help me?" She asked hotly, glaring at him. He pretended to think that over, and leaned back in the armchair, putting a finger to his chin. He grinned and turned around, looking at Granger.

"No. You seem to be doing well on your own." He said, smirking. She had cleaned out a box, all of them red banded, and placed them on one bookshelf, and had opened another to find yellow. Those she had begun putting on another wall. Draco glanced around and nodded. It appeared to be a type of colour coding, so he supposed it would work. Granger growled in annoyance, and turned back to the box she was emptying. Draco rolled his eyes and dug into the box of greens and pulled out an armful, moving to one of the empty walls and pushing them onto the shelves, then moved back to the box. Granger was smiling lightly as he stood, and he wrinkled his nose. "I'm not doing this to help you, Granger. Don't fool yourself. This is just so I can get to work as quickly as possible." He shot at her. She just shrugged and turned back to her box.

They spent a good hour simply emptying boxes, shooting insults at regular intervals. Draco glanced around the room and winced. "Is it just me, Granger, or does it seem like we haven't made a dent." He asked, eyeing the brown haired witch. She looked around and Draco could see the surprise in her eyes. She stood for a moment, and then opened her mouth to speak. "And don't say some of them could be empty. I've been taking the empties outside." He added. She sighed and sank into a chair.

"Then we haven't made a dent." She muttered. Draco glanced at the bookshelves. There were about two and a half shelves of red, one of yellow, two of green, and one and a half of blue already shelved. He sank into a chair at the table and eyed Granger. She was counting the boxes and frowning, then stood again and dug into another box. "I figure that since it was such a small room, Dumbledore put some type of enchantment on so that the boxes would be in here, but not take up as much room. That way, it seems like there is less boxes as there is, because some aren't actually in the room. They just continuously replace themselves until we empty the ones that aren't actually here, and then we work on the ones that are." She attempted as she placed an armful onto the blues shelving. Draco nodded and dug into another box, walking to the shelves they corresponded with.

"You know, this is incredibly boring." He muttered, and Granger nodded her agreement. "Why didn't Dumbledore get Pince or the house elves to put them away before?" He added. Granger looked over at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Madame Pince was probably very busy getting the library set, and didn't need to worry about putting this room together as well as the library, and the house elves may just have been too busy. This is a large castle, and you all expect it to be clean when you get here." She said. Draco rolled his eyes and grabbed the boxes the two had cleared, taking them out to the hall. As he had suspected, the ones he had placed outside earlier were already taken away. He put the empties down and turned around, rejoining Granger in the study.

He reached into another box of greens, grabbing an armful and heading towards the shelves. He set them in and turned around, glancing to see Granger's progress. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms in front of his chest, watching as she stood on her tiptoes in an attempt to reach into one of the top most boxes. Draco sighed and walked over, then pushed her lightly out of his way. She glared and he raised an eyebrow. "Do you want help or not." He asked sharply. She frowned, but didn't say a word. "Thought as much." He muttered, pulling the box slowly over and into his arms. He put it on the table and went back to the box he had been emptying, grabbing another armful.

Granger began humming again, and he worked silently, listening to the tune. He yawned and kept working, losing track of time, simply emptying boxes, and taking the emptied ones out to the hall.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Hermione stretched and looked around the study. It was midnight, or close to it, and her back was sore, her arms aching, and what more, the Ferret hadn't been doing any work for about an hour. She glanced to where he sat in the armchair in front of the fire and smiled softly. His hair was falling in front of his eyes again, and his eyes were closed against the flickering light. Hermione knelt in front of the armchair and reached out to light touch his shoulder. "Malfoy, wake up." She said quietly, shaking him lightly. "Malfoy." His eyes opened slowly, the grey moving around the room before settling on her. He smiled lightly and yawned.

"What's the matter Granger, miss my inspiring conversation?" He asked, eliciting a soft smile from Hermione. She shook her head and stood, looking out the window.

"As far as I can tell, we won't get this done tonight." She began, and Draco glanced around, gauging their accomplishments for the night. The greens were about half done, as were the blue, but yellow was far from done, and red just under half. He shook his head and Hermione nodded. "Exactly. So, we need to get to the commons. Not only are we out far past curfew, we missed our rounds." She muttered, grimacing. Malfoy laughed and shook his head.

"Granger. There are prefects for a reason." He said, grabbing his book bag off of the table where he had dropped it. "And as to us being out after curfew… There's a good excuse right there. Making rounds." He said, grinning and walking towards the door. Hermione shook her head and grabbed her book bag as well, following him out of the study. She locked the door behind them and stopped in front of the suit of armour.

"Malfoy, what should we put as the password?" She asked, turning to glance at Malfoy. He furrowed his brow and thought for a moment, then chuckled softly. Hermione raised an eyebrow and glanced at him suspiciously. "What's so funny, Malfoy." She asked carefully.

He chuckled again, and then glanced at her. "Shush, Granger. I'm thinking." Hermione rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall, running through different password possibilities. "Suaviter in modo, fortiter in re?" Malfoy suggested. Hermione raised an eyebrow and shook her head. Malfoy shrugged. "I'll bet you don't even know what that means." He challenged. Hermione blushed and shrugged uncomfortably.

"What of it, Malfoy?" She asked, glaring at him. He chuckled and shook his head, then went back to thinking of a password. She smiled. "As astra per aspera?" She offered, shrugging as she said it. Malfoy glanced at her and nodded.

"To the stars by hard ways." He echoed, turning to the suit of armour and telling it the new password. Hermione waited until Malfoy finished with the suit of armour, falling into place beside him as they made their way towards their common rooms. Hermione began humming again, a habit she had picked up when things got too quiet, and Malfoy glanced over.

Aside from Hermione's humming and their steps on the stone floor, the halls were quiet. They stopped in front of the painting that guarded their room, and Hermione smiled, stepping forward. "Hello, Hermione." Said Acantha, smiling and waving. Hermione smiled at the redhead and said a quiet hello.

Melite came out from behind one of the trees, gazing at Hermione and then turning to Malfoy. "Hello Draco. It's very good to see you." She said, smiling softly. Malfoy grinned and nodded.

"Nice to see you too, Melite." He said. "Now if you don't mind," He nodded to the three and Lilaea spoke up from the brook's bank.

"Password." She said tiredly, yawning as she asked. Hermione watched the whole thing with amusement, her brown eyes sparkling at the giggling Melite, the weary Lilaea, and the cheerful Acantha.

Malfoy chuckled. "Tempus fugit" He said, and Hermione grinned as the three nymphs waved, the painting fading into a mist. Malfoy stepped through and Hermione followed him into the common room. He made his way to the armchairs in front of the fire, and Hermione to the stairs. She paused at the bottom and turned.

"Good night, Malfoy." She said before turning and starting up the stairs. She had just reached the middle of the stairs when his voice reached her.

"'Night, Granger." He answered. She finished climbing the stairs and entered her room, placing her book bag onto the desk. She peeled off her clothing and stepped into a comfortable oversized tee shirt, then pulled back the quilt that covered her bed. She slid under the blankets and soon fell to sleep.

There it is. I will try to get past this block-type thing soon... It's annoying as hell to write a bunch of paragraphs and have to delete them because they make no sense...

Suaviter in modo, fortiter in re: Gentle in manner, firm in deed.

Ad astra per aspera: To the stars by hard ways.

Please, R&R

Mistress B


	3. The Colours Revealed

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to claim the Harry Potter universe as my own, I must humbly admit that it is not so..

To my reviewer siriuslyblack04, thanks for your comment. It made me smile. :D

* * *

The Fates Prophesied

Chapter 3: The Colours Revealed

Mistress B

Filch had caught him the first night as he had run from Norris' meows. He had been sentenced to detention, overseen by Filch himself, for the rest of the week as his punishment for being out after curfew. As he scrubbed the floors of the dungeons, he heard Filch's muttered remembrance of the days when a misbehaving child was punished by a night in the dungeons, suspended by chains from the roof. His brown hair fell into his eyes as he pushed the brush over the floor, his knees and back aching, sweat on his brow. He muttered to himself, his eyes focusing on Filch as he sat on a chair, his back to him, his muttered remembrance's echoing throughout the room that was silent except for the steady rasp of the bristles on the stone floor.

He shook his head and looked back at the stone floor, the slime that had been layered slowly disappearing. He was sore that he had been handed such a long sentence. It was the fourth day he had been in detention, the last day. Saturday hadn't come quick enough for his liking, the days inching, the detentions each night tiring him. He was already behind in his homework, and wasn't happy that he would have to spend all tomorrow as well as all today working solely on homework. He cursed himself that he had been out after curfew so much the previous years. Filch had been delighted that he had already started. He cursed under his breath as his knuckled rubbed on the stone, peeling away the skin, and he blew the hair out from his eyes after shooting another glare to Filch's back.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The week had passed quickly for Hermione, classes passing in a blur, the lessons taught fading from mind as soon as she left the classroom. She had counted down the minutes to last bell every day, rushing to immerse herself in sorting the journals that would become her only pastime, she was sure. To her, the projects was more than extra marks, but instead a way for her to forget, to put her parents' disappearance to rest, at least for a while each day. They had finally made a dent in the crates and boxes, they no longer reappeared each time they had finished with one. She took that as a sign that soon they would be able to start on the actual deciphering. Malfoy had looked as eager as she did when they realized the boxes were no longer reappearing, although he had acted nonchalant.

She sat in the Great Hall on Monday, the rest of the students long past gone to their last class. Hermione didn't have any classes the rest of the day, and she sat in the Great Hall considering heading to their study early. Malfoy had one last class, and although Hermione usually spent her free class outside, usually helping Hagrid with his second year class, today, with the rain coming down in sheets, she had shaken her head as Hagrid had asked whether she would be joining the class again today. She sat with her head on her elbow, textbooks open in front of her as she attempted to finish a two foot potions essay on the properties of moon sugar when mixed with unicorn hair and boiled in mandrake oils that was due the next week, a wide yawn escaping as she covered her mouth lightly with the back of her right hand.

She dipped the quill into the ink pot and wrote another two lines before stopping again, her quill poised over the ink pot in the process of dipping it yet again, gazing out the windows to the cloudy sky. The sound of thunder jolted her and she jumped, her eyes tearing from the clouds that swirled like quicksilver behind the backdrop of the streaming rain. She reluctantly wiped her quill off on a napkin and sprinkled dust over the ink, drying it best she could before rolling up the parchment and packing her books into her book bag. She tossed the bag over her shoulder as she stood, leaving the table and heading towards the large doors that led out of the hall.

She left and headed up the stairs towards the fourth floor Head's common room, intent on putting away her textbooks and picking up the notebook she had decided to use for notes on the journals. She wasn't sure whether she would need it yet, but she had always believed in being prepared for anything. She entered the room, stopping only briefly to talk with the nymphs, smiling warmly before she said the password and watching as the painting dissolved before her. She stepped into the room and glanced at the clock before heading towards her bedroom. A mere twenty minutes into the lesson, she estimated as she pushed open the door to her room, putting the book bag on her desk and beginning to pull out the textbooks from it. She piled them neatly on her desk, the parchment placed squarely in the middle of the desk, and she opened a drawer, rifling through it until she pulled out a book, grey with lavender designs on the cover and the same coloured writing on the spine, spelling out her name and the year. Her parents had intended it to be a journal, but she never used them anyways, and didn't want to waste a perfectly good book.

She placed it in the book bag, along with spare parchment, another notebook, this one a plain white one from the year before, and numerous quills and different coloured inks. She also threw in a few pencils and a ballpoint pen, smuggled in from home. She turned and rifled through the armoire, peeling off the robes and changing into jeans and a white t-shirt, a black hooded sweater over top. She grabbed her book bag and stuffed her robes in, in case she didn't return to her room before dinner. She tossed the bag over her shoulder and left her rooms, stopping briefly in the common room to grab the blanket off of the back of the couch that she had awoken with draped over herself, folding it up and holding it over one arm. She left the commons then, making her way through the corridors to their study.

She said the password to the suit of armour and then moved into the enclosure behind it, then into the recess off of that. She pushed open the small door, moving into the room that was still crowded, if not quite as bad. She placed her book bag onto the table and glanced around. They were almost done all of the colours, the shelves almost full. She placed the blanket down with her book bag and pulled off the sweater, knowing that, although it was warm now, by tonight she would be glad she had both the sweater and the blanket. She began her work quickly, puling the remaining books out of the boxes and stacking them on the walls, humming to herself. She didn't know what she was humming, only that she was. She knew that eventually they would have to pull all of the journals off to arrange them according to date, but she would have to ask Dumbledore when the first journal was written before she bothered.

She worked steadily, longing for music to break the silence instead of her own humming.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Draco idly twirled the quill between his fingers as he sat in his Magical Remedies class, the mediwizard who was there to describe the hardships of a career in healing who droned on and on long past ignored. There wasn't many in this class, most trading it in for the more popular classes such as Advanced Potions or Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Draco had long surpassed the class levels and found that he wasn't interested in either of those classes.

His father had required long hours spent with Snape in extra classes, and had completed, in effect, both Advanced Potions and Collegiate Potions before the end of last year. As for Defence Against the Dark Arts, he knew Dark Magic, so had long since learned the defence to most Dark Magic. Another gift of Lucius'. He had been required to spend a long amount of his time on the holidays studying with his father, learning different dark spells and, indeed, reaching his father's skill level by his sixth year.

He had since stopped working on dark magic, long before even Lucius' death, part of the reason Dumbledore was able to trust him with the Order, he supposed. The mediwizard was still rambling, and Draco glanced at the clock. The class, which had so far become one of his favourites, seemed to be dragging on interminably, the mediwizard's monotone lecture causing, two tables in front of Draco, Terry Boot from Ravenclaw to begin to snore loudly. Amazingly, though, the mediwizard didn't seem to notice, and Draco had a silent bet with himself over when the wizard would notice the slumbering boy. He stared at the clock, watching the seconds tick by.

Twenty minutes to go until the class would be out, and he would be done for the day. Knowing Granger, she would already be in the study, as she was every day. He assumed she wasn't there all class, since she usually carried with her the scent of fresh air and grass, not easily picked up in the closed off study.

He leaned back and put a notebook he had picked up in the common room, empty at the time, of course, on his stomach, propping it up on the table, and began idly jotting down things, his blonde hair falling in front of his eyes. He had long ago stopped styling it in the way his father had preferred for him, at least during school. He kept it loose, about his eyes and falling down to his jaw, putting styling products in to keep it neat, but not enough to make it slick back as he used to. He hummed a few seconds, and then nodding lightly jotted something else in the worn notebook, the pencil he had swiped from Granger making light grey marks above the writing.

He looked back at the clock, watching the seconds tick by. '40, 41, 42, 42, 41, 42, 43...' He paused, then frowned and glared at the clock as it jerked backwards again. He shook his head and growled lightly, the monologue coming from the front of the room not helping his mood. He looked down at the notebook, where on a line halfway down he had written idly "_The clock is out to get me."_ He sniggered softly and glanced at the front of the room, where Professor Kristophosen was shaking the bald mediwizard's podgy hand. The mediwizard soon left and Kristophosen stood at the front of the room, her gaze stern and her hands on her hips.

A loud snore from Boot brought her attention. She glared and walked over, picking up a student's textbook on the way. She stood with it raised above the desk where Boot was drooling, her eyes glinting. She wasn't really threatening to look at, Kristophosen. Her blonde hair went to the bottom of her shoulder blades, the colour of her eyes shifting always between blues and greys and greens. She was about 5'7" with high heels, 120 lbs soaking wet. But, however pixyish the small woman looked, she had proven herself to the class time and time again to be harder than nails, sterner than McGonagall, and more laid-back than Dumbledore. She had given quite the speech on the first day of classes, outlining her requirements.

"The number one thing I require is respect. For both me and any other teachers or lecturers. Give that, and I can promise we will have an easy and, I daresay, fun year." She had said, pacing the front of the room as she had spoken, her soft voice demanding their attention.

Draco cleared his thoughts and watched as she gazed down at Boot, shaking her head. She dropped the heavy textbook, a resounding crash from the large tome hitting the desk echoing through the room. Boot jerked up, falling out of his chair and sprawling on the ground, panting heavily. Draco sniggered and shook his head, leaning forward to better watch. Kristophosen gazed down at him and then turned, heading back to the front of the room and resuming her pose.

"I am disappointed, students. This was our first guest speaker of the year, and you alienated him. I ask little of you, class, except for respect, both to anyone who agrees to speak to you guys and to myself. This was an easy assignment, to pay attention and learn. Instead, I find you are daydreaming, doodling, sleeping." Here she sent a dark glare to Boot. "I can only hope that you will prove to the next speaker and myself that you are mature enough to remain in this class."

Draco shifted uncomfortably, tucking his notebook into his book bag as he sent a furtive glance at the clock. The bell rang then, shrilly breaking the silence that had descended over the class. Kristophosen sighed and sank into her desk. "Go on. Get out of here." She said softly, waving idly at the door. The rest of the class packed up quickly and hurried out of the room, whispering to each other. Draco stuffed his books into his book bag and stood, heading out of the room. Halfway out of the door he paused and turned around.

"Professor Kristophosen?" He said, shifting his book bag unconsciously, searching for a place where the books that weigh it down didn't dig into his shoulder. She looked up and raised an eyebrow in question. "Sorry for not paying attention." He said hurriedly, turning and leaving the room before the professor could say anything. He frowned as he headed through the corridors towards their study, not quite sure why he had bothered apologizing. No one else had felt the need to, why would he? He growled and shifted the book bag again as he turned down the corridor where the suit of armour was located.

He muttered the password to the armour, moving past it into the enclosure, and then into the recess, ducking so that he could pass through the door. As he had thought, Granger was hard at work, her hair gathered in a knot at the base of her neck, her checks red as she carried a particularly large stack of journals towards the bookcases. She had cleared a good number of boxes, and Draco was sure they would be working on deciphering any day now. He was actually looking forward to it.

He strode forward, tossing his book bag onto the table next to hers, and grabbed the books off of the top of her stack, lightening the armload of the struggling brunette. He grinned as she sighed in relief, shaking his head and placing the books on the shelves where they belonged, before grabbing the empties that Granger had left in the room and taking them out to the hall. He threw them out, not leaving the enclosure behind the suit of armour, and then turned back, returning to the study. He pulled a box off of a top of a pile, grabbing an armload out of it before heading towards the shelves they had reserved for he blue-banded books. He glanced over at Hermione and rolled his eyes as she emptied yet another box, the stack of books in her arms towering over her. He shook his head and turned back to his box, working silently. As usual, the only break in the silence was Hermione's humming and the sound of the books being slid onto the shelves and into their places.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Harry sprawled out in one of the chairs in the Gryffindor common room, the fire crackling in front of him and a book open on his lap. He was reading the book, barely listening to Ron's narration of an episode in their Care of Magical Creatures class that day, Ron's arms flailing as he mimicked the creature Hagrid had brought in, A chuckle coming from Seamus, who was really the only one listening. They had taken the course again this year, not because they needed or wanted it, but because they had nothing better to do. Neither were the least bit interested in Divination, and Harry had absolutely refused to spend another year listening to Trelawney, who had shared classes with the centaur Firenze since Firenze had been banished from his herd in fifth year.

Ron's narrative ended and the group that was gathered around the fireplace scattered, leaving Ron and Harry alone. Ron stared into the flames, leaving Harry to his book for a good while, until Harry could see Ron fidgeting out of the corner of his eye.

Ron turned and looked at Harry, who continued reading. "Harry, have you seen Hermione lately?" he asked, gazing around the commons. Harry hadn't, and had remarked on it earlier, not that Ron had heard as he had been spluttering about the spiders Hagrid had brought in with the creatures. Harry just grunted in answer and kept reading, ignoring Ron. Ron frowned and glanced around, standing. "Harry?" Harry ignored him again. Ron reached over and grabbed Harry's book, yanking it out of his hands and hitting him in the back of the head.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" Harry asked, frowning at the redhead and rubbing his head and Ron handed him back the book.

"I said, have you seen Hermione lately." Ron repeated, sitting back into the armchair.

Harry shrugged. "No, she's been off with her classes and that projects she told us about. The one McGonagall has got her on." Harry said idly, flipping through the pages in his book, trying to find the place he had been before the tome had been taken from his hands. "Why do you ask?" He added, glancing up at the redhead, who shrugged.

"It's weird not having her around, is all," Ron said idly, leaning back in the chair. Harry rolled his eyes and found the spot he had been at, going back to his reading. Ron shifted, drawing Harry's attention from the book. Harry rolled his eyes and Ron sighed. "You think we could go to her dorm?" Ron asked, looking at Harry. Harry sighed and glanced at his watch.

"Ron, it's 11:30. Past curfew. I highly doubt we could go to her dorm." He said, looking back to his book. Ron frowned and seemed about to add something. "And no, we will not use the Cloak just to go to the heads' dorms." He finished, shooting a glance at the redhead, who quickly closed his mouth and glanced around. Harry grinned and shook his head, concentrating once more on his book.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Hermione glanced around the study, grinning happily to herself. They had just finished the last box, and now all that remained was to organize them. She had pointed this out to Malfoy, who just looked at her and shook his head. "Granger, you can organize. I'll sit here and watch." He had murmured, looking at the fire that was crackling in the fireplace from his seat on the armchair. Hermione rolled her eyes and made a face at the back of Malfoy's head, sinking into one of the seats at the table. Draco reached over to the table and pulled his book bag to him, taking out a notebook and a pencil. Hermione frowned.

"Hold on a minute…" She said, getting Malfoy's attention. "Those are mine. The notebook and the pencil." She accused, glaring at the notebook. It was just a plain green one that she had never used, nor had she planned to use, but that Malfoy had it without asking? Malfoy chuckled.

"Aye. I found it out in the commons, tossed on the table. I figured you didn't want it, considering it is at least a few years old and didn't have a single thing written in it. I..." He paused, searching. "Borrowed it for an extended period of time." He said, grinning lightly. Hermione smiled lightly and shook her head.

"Well, next time you decide to 'borrow' something for _any_ length of time, please make sure to ask me." She said, smiling lightly before pulling out some parchment and a pencil from her own bag. She jotted a quick message on it and jumped up, saying a quick 'be right back' before heading out the door. She jogged through the halls and up stairs to the owlery, where she glanced around. She coaxed a brown school owl down from the rafters and tied the message gently to its leg. "Take it to Dumbledore for me, alright?" She said to the owl, stroking it lightly before letting it go.

She stood at the window long after the owl had left, staring at the sky outside. Even at night the clouds shifted, making the sky an inky colour, swirling, mesmerizing her. She stood for many minutes until, in only her t-shirt, she began to feel a chill. The cold nights were coming early this year, unfortunately, and she already couldn't wait for spring. She left the window and made her way back down the stairs, heading through the halls, turning and going down staircases, until she stood once more in front of the suit of armour. She said the password and entered again, surprised to see Malfoy still sitting in front of the fire.

He hummed something softly, briefly, and then jotted something above a line at the middle of the page, then all of a sudden his pen was once more at the top of the page. She shut the door behind her and looked back, and the notebook was shut and he was leaning back in the chair, looking into the fire. "Had to send a message to Dumbledore, ask him when the first journal is dated. That way, it'll be easier to set them in order." She explained as she stood at the table, bundling her stuff into the book bag and pulling her sweatshirt over her head. Malfoy nodded at her explanation and she pulled the bag over her shoulder. "Are you going to stay here for a while longer?" She asked, stepping to the door. Malfoy looked back and nodded. She nodded and opened the door. "All right then, goodnight." She said, leaving the room.

She was happy to finally make it to the common room, kicking her shoes off right at the portrait and carrying them into the actual dorm. She threw her bag onto her bed as soon as she made it up to her room, and a glance at the clock at her bed showed her the time. Half past midnight had just come and gone, and she was tired, her body as well as her mind exhausted. She had just pulled off her clothing and pulled on a nightgown when she fell onto her bed, her eyes fluttering closed as soon as her head hit the pillow.

XxXxXxXxXxX

She woke with the sun in her eyes, the sound of the steady stream of water coming from the shower the only sound to break the permeating silence that filled the Heads' dormitory. She stretched languorously, yawning and blinking as she gazed around the room, taking in the scattered parchments on her desk. She sat up and pushed the blankets off of her legs, swinging them out from the thick quilt and scratching idly at the back of head. She rubbed her eyes and walked to her armoire, pulling a pair of jeans out from the bottommost drawer, and a plain white tee from the shelf at the top. She grabbed some socks and underwear from the top drawer and pulled a pair of shoes from the bottom shelf, setting them beside the door before going to stand by the door, her head against the wall.

"Malfoy, your time is up." She called through the wooden barrier, closing her eyes and yawning. From inside, the sound of Malfoy starting to sing reached her. He was actually very loud… Hermione glared. "Oh, very mature. Don't think I don't know what you're doing, ferret!" She shouted, pounding on the door. The sound of his laughter reached her, and the water shut off within a few seconds. Hermione stepped back from the door, her arms crossed impatiently. She waited an appropriate amount of time, giving him a chance to dress, and then knocked on the door once more. "I need the washroom, Malfoy." She said, leaning back against the wall.

She leaned her head against the wall, and heard Malfoy unlock the door. She opened the door and quickly looked anywhere but the counter where he was leaning across the sink, drawing his razor over his jaw. "Oh, don't tell me you didn't have time to dress, Malfoy." She said in frustration, banishing the image of him standing, just a towel wrapped around his waist. Malfoy chuckled and rinsed off his razor, bringing a hand towel to wipe of the excess lather that remained on his face.

"I had time, I was occupied with other matters. Such as grooming." He paused. "You _have_ heard of personal grooming, haven't you?" He asked innocently, gazing at her. She frowned and turned to face him, ignoring his state of partial undress.

"That's mature, Malfoy, really. I mean, children _never_ use that insult. Oh no, you had by _far_ a wittier comment than _any_ seven year old." She said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. Malfoy chuckled again.

"I know, I know. My witty repartee must have you in a right fluster." He shot back, shrugging and grabbing his cologne off of the counter before heading towards his door. Hermione placed her clothes on the counter and waited for him to vacate the room. Malfoy turned back and glanced at her, hand on the doorknob. "But don't worry. I'm sure you'll someday come close to matching me in verbal sparring." He finished, opening the door and sliding through, shutting it before Hermione could fully process his comment. Shaking her head she pulled off her nightgown wordlessly, climbing into the shower and letting it caress away her troubles, forgetting everything but the rhythm of the water massaging her flesh.

She shampooed her hair quickly, working away the grime from working in the dusty study for hours, working away the smell of the old tomes. She came out of the shower smelling lightly of roses and vanilla, the bathroom steamy and the mirror fogged. "Granger, you finished showering?" called Malfoy through his door.

"Yes, but I wouldn't come in just yet." She said as she dried herself off, the beads of water that slid over her soon wiped away but the thick white towel. She knotted her hair briefly at the base of her neck, allowing herself the chance to dry off completely, without stray beads of water from her hair streaking down. She pulled on her clothes and wrapped her hair in the towel before letting Malfoy in. He took up his regular spot on the right, she on the left, each busy with readying themselves for the day.

She leaned forward and let her hair fall from the towel, then began to work the brush through the tangled strands that fell in front of her face. She was nearly upside down, and she couldn't help but hear Malfoy laughing. "Shut it, you prat. This is the only way I don't end up soaking my shirt." She muttered, rolling her eyes. This only set Malfoy off further, and she huffed in frustration, flipping her hair back over her head and eyeing him through the mirror.

He tried to choke back his laughter, and failed miserably, bursting out again. Hermione glared and gritted her teeth together, tuning out his laughter, singing to herself as she focused on the words to the song. Malfoy stopped soon and just stared at her through the mirror. "You sing?" He asked softly when she looked at him inquisitively. Hermione blushed a deep scarlet and shrugged uncomfortable.

"Nothing major. Just to occupy myself, lately. I've never really had any training or anything, just sort of sang." She said awkwardly, drawing the brush through her hair. Malfoy just nodded and went back to his own hair, eyeing her occasionally out of the corner of his eye. She finished up quickly, her hair in a messy bun, the highlights sparkling amid the dark brown of her natural colour, and swiped some lip gloss over her lips before leaving the bathroom. She walked to her desk and stuffed in her books for the day, along with her quills and parchment, then, after sliding on her shoes, walked down the stairs, pulling her robes on one arm, book bag clenched in the other.

She heard a pecking as she walked towards the entrance, and turned to see the brown owl she had sent to Dumbledore the night before sitting on the sill of one of the windows. She opened the window and untied the message from the owls leg, slipping it one of the treats she had bought the year before for the times when Pig visited her dorms. She sat on one of the armchairs and unrolled the slip of parchment, recognizing the Headmaster's scrawl.

_Ms. Granger._

_I gather you have already sorted the journals into their colours. I'm not sure if you have realized this yet, but they are organized not only by colour, but each colour is a representation of a founder's house. By now, you will realize what I mean. Green for Slytherin, red for Gryffindor, yellow for Hufflepuff and blue for Ravenclaw. Now, I know this does not really pertain to what you have asked of me, since I assume you already realized this, but I think you may not know why they had the different colours for each of their journals._

_They each chose a different colour to show that while they are all the same, they are also very different. They each stood for different things, red not only for Godric's house, but for his personality. He had a temper, Salazar a tendency to be envious, Helga an ever-optimistic constant hopeful, and Rowena had the air of royalty. Remember this when you read their journals, and this will help you understand their thoughts. _

_The school began in 1009. The first journal should date in early 1006, when the four met and, realizing each had an enormous aptitude within different aspects of magic. They decided to band together and create a way to spread this knowledge to the coming generations. This is, of course, common knowledge, and I cannot help but wait in expectation for your first report, giving me, I hope, further insight into the brilliant minds of those who began our school. _

_I believe that this project may be the best thing to happen to many of us in a very long time, and that, in the future, many will wish they had been the ones on the project that had discovered a way, long forgotten, to defeat Voldemort. Until that distant date, we must remember to live with hope that we will indeed find a way to finish this for the good of all._

_Remember that I am but a few floors away and my door is always open to a student in need,_

_Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster._

Hermione sat in contemplation as the contents of Dumbledore's note sank in. That the founders had chosen their colours based on their personalities had never occurred to Hermione; she had assumed the colour choosing was based on each founder's family coat of arms. Then, as the clock chimed 8:00, she jumped from the chair, the sounds of Malfoy's steps on the stairs echoing hers as she grabbed her book bag. She stopped as she ran towards the entrance, then turned around, note clenched in her hand. She stopped in front of Malfoy and held out the note.

"It's about our project, from Dumbledore." She said before pushing it into his hand and running towards the entrance. "Make sure you read it, and get to the study as soon as possible so that we can work on the project quicker!" She called over her shoulder before leaving the room and running through the emptying halls towards her class.

She would hate it if she were late because of the note from Dumbledore. She nearly bowled over a third year, and at the sight of a charging head girl, many students found themselves clearing the way for the harried brunette. She turned into the Transfiguration classroom just as the bell rang, signalling the start of class, and had just sunk into a seat at the back of the class when McGonagall entered the room. She knew she must look a sight, her messy bun literally falling out of the knot, and her cheeks red, both from the run and embarrassment, the curious gazes coming from her classmates not helping the matter in the least. She thought back to Dumbledore's note and pulled a notebook out of her book bag, gazing at the front of the room. McGonagall was demonstrating a spell Hermione had long known, and so she opened the notebook, turning to the first clean page and placing the date in the top right corner. She put her pencil to the first line, pressing it to the paper as she thought about what to write.

_Entry one, personal response, "Founder's Project."_

_As assigned by Prof. Dumbledore and Prof. McGonagall._

_Hermione Granger_

_As I consider what I have learned today, I cannot help but find my mind wandering. To think that the colour scheme would affect me so is unbelievable, and yet, it is true. I cannot help but wonder what else that I had assumed will turn out to be false, if even such a simple thing that was always believed to be true is found to be false. That the emotional association of colours and their responding attachment to the founders derived the colours… I had never even considered such. _

_To me, the colours were most likely derived by a familial importance, as the colours of a family coat of arms, or the favourite colour or a favoured relation. I suppose that next, I will discover that the animals, the Gryffindor lion, the Slytherin snake, were not chosen for their associated properties, but that they were the Founder's pet, or that they had each had a bad experience with one of the chosen animal. _

She paused to think and looked up in time to see McGonagall do a demonstration of a tough spell, changing a glass of water into a particularly beautiful rose. They were learning to change anything into a flower, something Hermione had learned in order to give her mother a lovely Mother's Day gift. She glanced around and shut the notebook when she saw the curious stares she was still receiving, probably because she was ignoring the teacher.

She sighed and tucked the notebook back into her book bag, along with her pencil, instead pulling out some spare parchment and uncapping a bottle of ink and readying her quill, turning to listen to McGonagall's lecture on the precision needed to make the spell work properly.

* * *

There we go. I hope you all enjoy!

Please, Read and review. I long to hear some feedback on this.

Mistress B


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